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Sep 2020
It ain't me...
It ain't need...
It ain't seen...
It ain't lead...

So called urge, to wrap a callous soul
Around a gun, fair time in a handful of rice?
Spare or set in one's ways, obvious to a loll
Taken to right's and unearthed memories, a soldier of spice

Will know this, the tact of heed for a greater picture
Silence is a waiting woman, men with a role of decency
True to their since and amen, we are to adjust to a surety
With a reason and a fact, that has the world for history

Intellect, for a finished lip
In the swoon and rhyme, we select for dance?
Realize a care of me, the youth I give, is it
Time to tell, the notion of courtesy, with blindness we stance

****, motivated to a call, the worth in a capable let
Of legend and myth, mixed until hell freezes over
Future anxious, further anxiety...
Has you on the fence, with a sense, of younger lover's?

Judge honesty, in the yard...
Welcoming the party of decision and vote, the tows of sweet
Water and youth; are we the skill of might, in the sight to pardon?
Saving you from the done, and by willing forces, a livid secret...
Written by
David Hilburn  55/M/Soldotna, Alaska
(55/M/Soldotna, Alaska)   
46
   Maria Mitea and Imran Islam
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